


Sweet Prince

by afterandalasia



Category: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Genre: Bondage, Captivity, Community: disney_kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Mindfuck, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen wins, in the end - the Prince is hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Prince

**Author's Note:**

> From the [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=2334825#t2334825) at Disney Kink.
> 
> _"According to the special features on the original DVD release, there was an abandoned plot idea where the Queen had captured the Prince and tortured him in the dungeon, and there was supposed to be an elaborate Errol Flynn-esque escape."_
> 
> Torture while he's in that dungeon.

Her fingers traced down his neck. "So, little Princeling, you thought you could steal away Snow White and plan to usurp my throne, hmm?"  
  
He doesn't answer, of course. How could he, with that gag pulled tightly around his throat. The rattle of the chains around his wrists and ankles, though, that does for an answer, and a cruel smile crosses the Queen's beautiful face.  
  
"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"  
  
His throat is warm, and she can feel the blood pounding when she presses her fingers hard against his jugular, so hard that he twitches and tries to pull away. The Queen laughs, the sound made harsh with the echoes in the stone-clad dungeon, and puts the tip of one pointed nail right in the centre of his neck. As the Prince falls still she drags it down, slowly, leaving a fine red line of a scratch as she does so.  
  
"Because you are _mine_ now, little Prince. And I will be the _fairest_ that you see."  
  


 

 

 

  
  
He would learn, in time. As he fought against the chains that bound him to the wall until they scored at his wrists and he would sag from the pain and exhaustion. When she came to him with cool water and washed his wounds, and he came to know her as mistress of both pain and relief, loss and pleasure, everything hers to heap upon him. As the lash cut into his back and raised beads of blood and he cried out, and even wept, and she bent to lick the wounds in tantalising slow strokes that made him whimper.  
  
As she kept him there, blindfolded, gagged, knowing nothing but the rough stone against his back and the chains on his flesh, hearing screams in the distance and in darkness with or without the blindfold. when she held food or water to his lips, and he gulped it down desperately, even when he knew that he could taste the bitterness of potions within it, for he knew that he had no choice.  
  
As she ran her hands and nails and lips and teeth down his body, until he groaned, until taking his erection in her hand she would tease and pleasure him almost to release, over and over, until he ached and trembled and sobbed and cried her name as he came. And then petting him, and stroking his hair, and whispering such terrible, beautiful promises in his ear as made him weak at the knees.  
  
As she became the only thing of radiance in his captured life, fair and glorious against the dank stone and darkness and rats that made the piles of bones clatter over each other. As she cupped his chin in her hand and gazed deep into his eyes and he came to yearn for her pale, beautiful face as the only respite from the horror of his surroundings. As she whispered, over and over again, "I am the fairest of them all, am I not?" until he answered _yes_ with his eyes, and nodded, and then affirmed her question over and over again with shaking voice.  
  
As magic prickled over his every limb, dark fire in his bones, tearing him apart and spinning him into eternity, desire feeling as if it was going to rip away his skin. Until he gasped and shuddered at her feet, unfettered, not needing manacles to hold him to the ground as she watched with the firelight gleaming in her eyes.  
  
As slowly, and painfully, and wonderfully, she burnt all memory of Snow White from his mind, and when he knelt before her and begged to be her slave, and as she smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed him lightly on his sweat-slicked forehead.  
  
"And so... goodnight, sweet Prince."


End file.
